Great Expectations
by Tirsh
Summary: Just a little fluffy family nonsense. This is a stand-alone two shot that takes place in the same universe as The Feather Boa Book Club.


**A/N So forever ago I promised riveroad some Dad!Spike. This is me keeping that promise. Hopefully better late than never. This is a two-shot (likely) that stands alone but takes place in the same universe as The Feather Boa Book Club. Way more Dad!Spike in part two - which has been mostly written and will be up before too long. **

Disclaimer : The show Flashpoint and its characters were created by Mark Ellis and Stephanie Morgenstern and belong to them and its respective networks. I am making no money off this story and it is for entertainment purposes only. However, this particular story is my creation and should not be used without my express written permission. Plagiarists will be reported without the benefit of a heads up.

"Ma'am," Spike used the tone he reserved for only the most emotional and disturbed of EDPs, "Ma'am, I need you to put that down and take a couple of steps back toward me. Nice and slow."

Winnie rolled her eyes before setting the spoon on the handle of the pot and turning around, raising her hands in mock surrender, "Is there a problem here, officer?"

"No. No problem at all. I'm sure we can work this out," he assured her. "I just need you to tell me who you are and what you've done with my wife."

"And what makes you so sure I'm not your wife?" she asked, playing along.

"I will admit you look like her. And you sound like her too, but I gotta say, the proximity to the stove is a little suspicious," he prepared to duck, just in case.

"Hilarious," she deadpanned, "You want to make your funny jokes or do you want to get over here and greet me properly?"

"It's my birthday. Any reason I can't do both?" he smirked as he sauntered over to her and looped his arms around her waist. He leaned in to plant a kiss on her lips but she dodged him and it landed somewhere near her ear.

"Spike. It's Thursday."

"What's your point?" he feigned confusion.

"Your birthday was Saturday."

"Close enough," he shrugged, dismissive.

"It's not even a little bit close," she argued.

"Sure it is."

"BirthDAY. They put it right there in the name for the easily confused," she huffed.

"You're no fun," his bottom lip slipped out in a pout but really, he thought this was all kinds of fun. He honestly didn't care one way or the other about his birthday - beyond feeling grateful and maybe a little guilty that he survived another year, it just really wasn't a big deal. But Winnie didn't have a lot of buttons and since he had discovered this particular pet peeve a few years ago he could not resist leaning into it for a couple of weeks every year, much to the annoyance of his wife.

"Had a party and everything," she reminded him, "After which, I believe I proved _exactly_ how fun I am."

"This is true," he conceded, grinning widely at the memory.

Winnie grabbed two fistfuls of his shirt and pulled his face close to hers, "Are you just about done?" She was not amused. Much.

"Just about." This time he didn't miss his mark. "Everything go okay today? Did mom's flight get away on time?"

"Had to get security involved when she tried to smuggle the baby into her carry-on, but other than that it went fine. Of course you'll have to imagine my surprise when she made me promise to bring her home to Italy soon to meet her namesake," she shot him a pointed look.

"What? You knew my mom has a sister named Josephine."

"Yes of course I knew that. What I did not know is that you told her we named our baby after her."

"I did no such thing." He denied emphatically and then immediately looked sheepish, "Okay maybe, possibly, I let her assume that we did. It was win-win, …Win," he faltered at the end realizing how ridiculous it sounded.

"It was win-win, Win," she mocked him, grinning, "You're a dork."

"This is also true," he agreed, not exactly repentant.

"She must never know," Winnie said earnestly.

"That our daughter's name has nothing to do with her favourite sister and everything to do with the little Dawson's Creek fangirl that lives inside you?" he teased, dimples flashing. "She won't hear it from me." The only way that would end was with him getting his ass kicked. Twice. His lips were sealed.

"Not to you know, jinx anything, but are we actually alone?" he asked looking around, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Winnie had had a tough go of things this time around so his mom had stayed longer than she planned to help out and the baby was still tiny and sleeping in a bassinet in their room so "alone" was a precious commodity.

"We are alone in the kitchen. We are not alone in the house so don't be getting any ideas."

"Where is everyone?"

"Joey is asleep," she glanced toward the family room, "Don't even think about it," she held up her hand as he followed her gaze. "Her schedule is all out of whack because of our little airport adventure. She'll be awake soon enough. Nana has of course assumed the position beside her carrier," she said referring to their Australian shepherd mix.

"Of course," he nodded. Her real name was actually Pepper but they had started calling her Nana shortly after their son was born, when, even as a puppy she had appointed herself his caretaker. "And Zach?"

"Your son is upstairs in his room. Pouting."

"Winnie, we prefer 'processing,'" he admonished.

"Yes, I am aware of what you prefer," she tweaked his nose, playfully, "but I have news for you. It looks a lot like pouting when you do it too."

"Do we know what he is pouting about?" he asked.

"Not really, although I am sure he'll share when he's done processing," she used his word. "From what I could worm out of Nate when I picked him up, apparently the field trip to the dinosaur exhibit today did not live up to expectations. He said and I quote, 'he's prolly mad there were no dinosaurs. It was all just a bunch of stupid rocks and butterflies.'"

Spike snorted. No one was ever going to accuse Nate of being Willy Wonka. The kid did not sugar coat. "But surely he knows though? I mean he didn't really expect a dinosaur did he?"

"Of course he knows. Logically he knows," Winnie reassured him, "but sometimes what his little 4 year old heart desperately wants to believe is more powerful than logic."

"This is all my fault, isn't it?" Spike sighed, running his hand through his hair.

"Maybe," Winnie was sympathetic, knowing immediately what he was referring to, "But only in the very best possible way."

It had started out so innocently. About 6 months ago, faced with some unscheduled, and to his mind, entirely unnecessary, time off, Spike had been bored out of his mind. Walking past Zach's room he'd spotted his plastic dinosaurs scattered on the floor, where he had abandoned them before school that morning. He'd been about to pick them up and toss them in the toy box when inspiration had struck. Instead, he had pulled down Zach's big dinosaur book and laid it out on the bed, gathering the plastic dinosaurs around it. He'd almost forgotten about it hours later when Zach came thundering down the stairs and into the family room squealing in glee, "Daddy, daddy, come look," he'd grabbed his hand and tried to pull him up, "My dinosaurs are reading my dinosaur book! Hurry!"

Spike couldn't even wait until Zach went to school the next day before doing it again, so that night they raided the fruit bowl in the kitchen and were caught red-handed at breakfast the next morning. Over the next couple of weeks they also got into the bubble bath, held a watercolour class, played a boisterous game of Chutes and Ladders, tried to make waffles (Winnie was not amused- flour everywhere!), and got into all kinds of trouble, each scenario more ridiculous than the last until Spike had to go back to work. Knowing he could not continue this indefinitely, Spike had done some "research" and "discovered" a web page about the Annual Dinosaur Mischief Festival which occurred each year at this time and then wrapped things up on the appropriate day. Zach immediately began counting down to the following year when the dinosaurs would come to life again.

Spike had had so much fun that he may have taken the dinosaurs to work where they may or may not have staged a very intense interrogation of a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle in Sam's locker. That would have been the end of it, but then Ed got involved, and he had borrowed some of Izzy's Barbies and well, the happenings in Sam's locker got progressively less and less PG. They were about to get completely out of hand when, lucky for Sam, Zach had demanded the return of his T-Rex.

"I suppose I should go talk to him before dinner," he muttered, "Speaking of which…" he reached for the spoon on the pot behind her.

"I made sauce!" she said proudly.

He raised a spoonful to his lips, "I love you more than anything Winnie but you did not make this sauce," he teased.

"Whatever," she waved her hand dismissively, "I kept it alive all afternoon."

Spike grinned and dropped a kiss on her lips, "It's practically the same thing."

"You know she leaves out an ingredient or two when she gives me the recipes so you'll always know when it's hers," she grumbled good-naturedly.

"No, she doesn't," he argued, although he wouldn't put it entirely past her, "It's just experience, that's all."

"Hmm…" Winnie was skeptical. She should probably feel guilty that Michelina had spent the last 6 weeks fussing over her and helping with the kids and cooking up a storm but she'd learned long ago that it was useless to expect anything else. And after Spike had told her once, long ago, "she hasn't really had anyone to fuss over since my dad died" well, it just seemed churlish to refuse. So their freezer was full and she was pretty sure the Braddock's was too. Nate might not be her biggest fan but he was definitely her most vocal. Even at 5 he was already showing signs of his mother's gift for reading people and between that and his daddy's blond blue-eyed charm, Michelina hadn't stood a chance. Nate hadn't left their house empty-handed in weeks.

"All right," Spike kissed her again, "I'm going up. Maybe give me 20 minutes before dinner?"

"Sure."

"And Win? You're going to want to boil the water before you drop the pasta," he tossed over his shoulder as he headed for the stairs. He glanced back to see his wife flipping him the bird while she dug out a pot. "It's just not ladylike, Winnie," he laughed as he trotted up the stairs.

A/N the dinosaur bit may sound familiar to some of you - I admit to borrowing the idea from a post on pinterest - Dinosaurs were already part of this story in a big way and when I saw that on pinterest I immediately thought "that is so something Spike would do for his kid" and so... he did.


End file.
